


On Top

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Dom Jensen Ackles, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, Punishment, Sub Misha Collins, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Misha straddled Jensen on stage, he knows Jensen will consider him due a punishment.The anticipation is nearly as good as being completely at Jensen’s mercy.





	On Top

**Author's Note:**

> So this did not happen.
> 
> But in this story Jensen watches Misha carefully, and is very careful with him and ensures his safety.

Misha’s kind of been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the convention. There’s just no way Jensen would let that go, though Misha knows he was turned on (Jensen’s jeans were tight, but not tight enough to hide his reaction at being straddled and a hand lightly resting against his throat).

Occasionally, Jensen liked to submit, but it _was_ only occasionally, and it was kind of a fake submission in a way, because Jensen told him what he wanted Misha to do, set up the whole scene, and was just as bossy during it as normal.

So Misha knows he crossed a line but he’d be lying if he claims he’s anything but excited to see how Jensen will make him pay for it.

Remind him of his place.

He finds out three nights later, when they’re back in the apartment they share during shooting, and Jared’s off doing some late birthday shopping for a friend (Misha suspects he knows they’re going to need privacy tonight and has just made himself scarce).

He’s heading to the kitchen, about to start cooking, when Jensen catches his wrist.

“We’ll order take out later,” he says.

Misha starts to protest; he has a new vegetarian recipe he wants to try, all the ingredients brought in fresh that morning, but then he sees the look in Jensen’s eyes and yes, they can order take out.

Later.

He doesn’t argue when Jensen tells him to strip, and sit down on the carpet.

From there he watches as Jensen pulls a couple of silk scarf from behind the couch cushions. He kneels behind Misha, and uses the first to bind his wrists (Misha doesn’t tug, there’s no point - Jensen knows his knots) and then uses the other to tie his ankles together.

Then he pushes against Misha’s shoulder, the other hand at the back of Misha’s neck, until he has him flat on the floor.

Misha’s breathing fast, excited for what comes next.

It’s not what he expects. Jensen doesn’t strip, teasing him slowly. He doesn’t even take off his shirt. 

He does, though, slip a familiar tube from his pocket, and squeeze a dollop from it into his left hand.

Is this how Jensen’s going to punish him, he wonders? Refusing to let him come? Making him come, again and again, until there’s nothing left in him?

They probably only have an hour or two until Jared returns, so that puts a window on it that he figures he can endure.

It’ll be worth it; Jensen always makes it worth it.

He’s a little surprised when Jensen straddles him, sitting on his hips, but with his weight forward enough to press a little on his stomach.

“Got everybody excited there, didn’t you,” Jensen says. His voice is whiskey-rough, and Misha knows that Jensen’s excited (again) too, especially now their roles are reversed. “But I think you forgot your place, Mish.”

He doesn’t agree or deny, tongue so dry it’s sticking to the roof of his mouth; fact, anyway, is fact, and he wants Jensen to remind him of his place.

And then Jensen’s hand rests on his neck, fingers splayed wide, avoiding his Adam’s apple and his pulse points.

The pressure is negligible at first, but then it builds, and Misha finds each breath a little tighter than the one before, not helped with the weight on his lower body.

Jensen stares down into his eyes as his next breath could charitably be described as a wheeze, but Misha holds his gaze.

He’s safe with Jensen; whatever the hell Jensen did, Misha would know, even if it was scary, like this is, that Jensen won’t hurt him. Will keep him safe, and on the right side of the line.

Besides, he still has their non verbal safeword; three rapid blinks, and that’s why Jensen’s staring at him, focused on his face, watching for it.

He doesn’t squeeze any further, can’t without completely cutting off Misha’s air, and then he reaches behind him, finds Misha’s dick (hard enough by now to jut against Jensen’s denim glad ass, and Misha’s sure the tip’s chafed) and starts jerking him off.

Hard, determined, and it’s not going to take much, and it doesn’t, and Misha would howl if he could when he comes, Jensen’s hand a vice around his dick.

Jensen lifts the pressure from his throat in that same instant, letting Misha gulp in air. He strokes his cheek, his chest, mutters soothing words, lets him settle.

Misha’s more than a little out of it as Jensen undoes his restraints, newborn calf clumsy as Jensen helps him onto his feet, and pulls him down onto the couch.

There’s a light throw there that Jensen tugs around him, and tucks him carefully into his side.

“You okay?”

Misha nods. Yes, yes, he’s okay. He needs a shower, but definitely that’s for after more of this, Jensen holding him close, reinforcing that he’s safe.

“You’re so good for me, Misha. You know, right, I’d never let you get hurt?”

Misha nods. Has proof of it right now, and burrows deeper against Jensen’s side.

They stay like that for maybe another quarter hour, before Jensen takes him into the shower, gently washes him down, and gets him dressed.

Jared returns later, present shopping successful, and he might suspect, but he doesn’t ask.

He does grin at them a whole hell of a lot though, sappy and cheeky at the same time until Jensen tosses a prawn cracker at him and Misha ducks out of the kitchen fast enough to avoid becoming a casualty of the impromptu food fight.

He does watch though, and risks cheering on _both_ sides, earning him a scandalised look from Jensen, with a hint beneath it that he’s on thin ice once more.

Misha smirks back at him. He knows. Oh, boy, does he know.


End file.
